


Work Related

by miss_nettles_wife



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Dark!Simon, Future Fic, M/M, Whumptober 2019, Wound Cleaning, and thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 08:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: Whumptober Day 2: explosionMarshall, Dash, a bathroom and some antiseptic.





	Work Related

**Author's Note:**

> Day two of wumptober, this time passing the ball to Eerie.

“So run by me again what happened?”  
  
“I’d rather not get into it.”   
  
Dash grimaced to himself and carefully dabbed the cotton ball he was holding against the scrape on Marshall’s cheek. Marshall flinched at the feeling of antiseptic on an open wound.   
  
“You’d rather not get into it.” He said, sarcastically, “And you come home looking like you’ve just been a fistfight with the Karate Kid.”   
  
“What was I meant to do? Sleep at the office?”   
  
“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Dash told him and then stood back to admire how much of the soot and dried blood he’d been able to get off of Marshall’s face. There was plenty left, but at least he was starting to look like himself again. There was not anything that could be done for his singed hair at the moment except maybe holding a tiny funeral for the length he’d lost.   
  
“Well, before I was working overnight.” He defended, “This was an accident.” Dash tossed his cotton ball into the trash and picked up another one. He flashed back to being a teenager. When they got into real trouble, and Marshall got injured. Once, he’d had to go with Janet to collect his fingers from a battlefield so their weird alien friend could put them back on for them. Not that he doubted the blobby dude’s skill, but he preferred for Marshall to keep that hand as far away from him as possible.   
  
“Then what happened?” He continued, “And you know Simon’s going to want a report on it. If you’re unlucky, you might have even gotten Things Inc a fine.”   
  
“I know.” He grumbled, “We need a sign. ‘Days since last brought the wrath of Mayor Holmes upon us’.”   
  
“Upon us? Upon you.” Another downed soldier. The cotton ball went into the bin. Dash worked the world's most boring job at the Eerie Library, he never did anything to bring Simon’s wrath upon himself. Marshall could do that all on his own.   
  
“Upon me.” Marshall sighed. “We were testing a newer version of the Tachkeloyn Portal.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“I was just trying it out.” He defended.   
  
“Marshall!” He exclaimed and resisted the urge to shake him by the shoulders. “Did a heavy object fall on your head lately? Have you forgotten The Powers That Be and your promise not to get into this shit anymore?”   
“I didn’t forget.” Marshall said, “And no one knew what I was doing. Except for Mitchell. But he’s in another dimension so it doesn’t matter.” Dash shut his eyes and took a couple of calming breaths. In, out. In, out. “Dash?”  
  
“We’re supposed to be married.” He told Marshall and picked up a damp cloth, and none to gently rubbed some stubborn dirt on his cheek. “You’re supposed to think of us as a unit rather than just yourself.”   
  
“What are you talking about? What does us being married have to with my work?” He asked, moving away as Dash got to close to an open scrape. He really should have just let him get into the shower rather than fuss over him like his mother. Which he wasn’t, and certainly didn’t ever intend to become. He’d gotten soft. He never used to fuss over anything.   
  
If Marshall died, what happened to him? He’d only ever loved, really loved, three people. One of them was an insane mayor of their hometown, and the other was a total moron. Jesus. He sure rolled two gutterballs with them huh. Janet turned out okay, at least. He didn’t have to worry about her like he did Marshall, or fear her like he did Simon.   
  
The thought of losing Marshall sat heavy in his heart, like a rock in a pond or stone in a kidney. In a pinch, he could say it was financial. He’d be left practically destitute; since their finances were all in Marshall’s name save for Dash’s rainy day fund.   
  
Before he could say anything else, Marshall doubled over in pain.   
  
“Jesus, what the fuck,” Dash said, at the sudden movement.   
  
“Sorry.” Marshall gasped, “I just...Need too -” He stayed bent over, breathing loudly through his teeth. He was obviously in pain and probably did not need another lecture from Dash about the dangers of playing with the things we don’t understand.   
  
“We’ll talk about it later.” He decided and gently took Marshall by the arm, leading him through the house and into the living room. He sat him down on the couch and then, perhaps handing over the belated fusser within him, draped him with the afgan from the back of the couch.   
  
“I’m calling Monroe.” He said, seriously.   
  
“She’s a surgeon,” Marshall said, with grit teeth.   
  
“She’s better than nothing, and she’s free,” Dash said, dialing the number, ignoring any further argument from Marshall.


End file.
